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Right Speech
Right Speech, or sammavacha, is the third step of the Eightfold Path, which is the fourth
and last Noble Truth preached by Shakyamuni Buddha. The following is a collection of
classic and contemporary views of Right Speech.
“And what, friends, is right speech? Abstaining from
false speech, abstaining from malicious speech,
abstaining from harsh speech, and abstaining from idle
chatter—this is called right speech.”
“And what, bhikkhus, is wrong speech? False speech,
malicious speech, harsh speech, and gossip: this is
wrong speech.
“And what, bhikkhus, is right speech? Right speech, I
say, is twofold: there is right speech that is affected by
taints, partaking of merit, ripening on the side of
attachment; and there is right speech that is noble,
taintless, and supramundane, a factor of the path.
“And what, bhikkhus, is right speech that is affected by taints, partaking of merit,
ripening on the side of attachment? Abstinence from false speech, abstinence from
malicious speech, abstinence from harsh speech, abstinence from gossip: this is right
speech that is affected by taints…on the side of attachment.
“And what, bhikkhus, is right speech that is noble, taintless, supramundane, a factor of
the path? The desisting from the four kinds of verbal misconduct, the abstaining,
refraining, abstinence from them in one whose mind is noble, whose mind is taintless,
who possesses the noble path and is developing the noble path: this is right speech that is
noble…a factor of the path.”
—Shakyamuni Buddha
Right Speech from a Tibetan Buddhist Perspective
Ro d g e r J a c k s o n
It is difficult to characterize Tibetan Buddhist views of right speech in a simple
manner, but certain points do come up repeatedly in texts, in lectures, and in
everyday life. In Tibetan ethics, four acts of speech to be avoided provide a fairly
comprehensive definition of nonvirtuous verbal behavior.
Lying, says the influential Indian philosopher Vasubandhu, is discourse in which,
knowing one thing to be the case, you assert something else, and your assertion is
taken by another person to be the truth. It is the most egregious and universally
condemned of the negative acts of speech, because it is deeply subversive of the trust
on which human relationships and communities are built.
Slander is speech whose purpose is to incite divisions
among people. You tell your friend something about
person X or group Y, and whether your words are
true or false, or your friend likes Y or doesn’t, if the
effect is an increase in his or her hostility toward Y,
then slander has occurred. The Gelugpa master
Pabongka Rinpoche adds this caveat: “Some people
consider doing these things to be a good quality, but
they are not. Divisive speech causes great harm, and
so can’t be right.”
Abusive speech involves speaking harshly to another
being: Addressing someone directly, you either
speak in a threatening tone or criticize the other
person for real or imagined faults. When the other
person’s feelings are hurt by your outburst, the act is complete. Like lying and
slander, abusive speech is nonvirtuous because it sows discord between people.
Idle gossip, strictly speaking, is discussion of any topic that is not related to Buddha-
dharma. “These days,” Pabongka notes ruefully, “we monks discuss many things
when a large group of us gets together in the monastery grounds: the government,
China, India, and so on. This is idle gossip.” So, too, are discussions of non-Buddhist
treatises. “Idle gossip,” he concludes, “is the least of the ten nonvirtues, but it is the
best way to waste our human lives.”
Tibetans and we ourselves may recognize all too much of our verbal behavior in these
accounts; the definitions of the vices are clear, and the rationales for their censure
understandable. Yet for Tibetans, as for us, a purely behavioral notion of verbal
morality leaves certain questions unanswered. What is the status of the white lies
that protect or benefit other beings without harming anyone? Is it slander to speak ill
of a corrupt employer or a dishonest (or even incompetent) politician? Is it abusive
speech to “speak truth to power” or shout at a child about to run into traffic? Is it
always idle gossip to discuss the worldly concerns that humans share: politics, art,
sports, love, food, or money?
Even the more conservative Nikaya admits that the moral weight of a vice (or virtue)
is contingent on the subject object, nature, intention, manner, and frequency of the
act. It is worse, for instance, to lie continually to your parents than to gossip idly with
your friends just once. Nevertheless, all nonvirtuous behavior is essentially negative
and definitely to be avoided.
With the Mahayana and Vajrayana, however, the behavioral ethic of the Nikayas
begins to shift toward and ethic of intention. As illustrated by the Lotus Sutra’s
parable of the burning house—a wise old man lures his endangered children from a
burning house with promises of animal carts he is not going to give them (intending
to give them better ones)—a lie may not be nonvirtuous if it is motivated by
discerning compassion. Indeed, in Mahayana and Vajrayana, the moral weight of an
action comes to inhere primarily in the intention behind it, not the behavior
involved. The door is thereby opened to the beneficial lie, the altruistic critique, the
expression of righteous anger, and even, perhaps, discussion of topics not overtly
related to dharma.
All these are exercises of a bodhisattva’s skillful means. Their acceptance reflects a
sophisticated recognition that moral judgments must take intention into account. At
the same time, an ethic of intention, too, leaves unanswered questions. If the motive
is the only true measure of morality and the thoughts of others are invisible to us,
how can we tell that the lie or the slur we just heard was well- or ill-intentioned,
permissible or condemned? If we cannot judge others by their behavior, how do we
know who among us are the bodhisattvas and who the charlatans? A pure ethic of
intention seems as prone to moral relativism as a purely behavioral ethic to
superficial legalism.
This may be why, although Tibetan Buddhists consider themselves Mahayanists, and
often have held their “crazy” tantric saints in high regard, they tend to fall back on
behavioral norms where the motive behind and act remains in doubt. Yes, a true
bodhisattva may speak “nonvirtuously” if it serves the spiritual interests of others,
but how many true bodhisattvas are there? More to the point: Can you, or I, be so
certain that we are bodhisattvas, our motives pure, our discernment sufficient to
encompass the situation in which we plan to “speak with skillful means”?
Occasionally, perhaps; but most of the time, the answer is no.
Intention does matter, and sometimes we do have both the wisdom and compassion
to see that an outwardly “nonvirtuous” act of speech is required, so Tibetan
Buddhism does leave the door ajar for the beneficial lie, the appropriate personal or
political critique, the relation-building discussion of nondharmic matters. But most
Tibetans, whether lama or layperson, would probably agree that, day in and day out,
we cannot do better than to model ourselves on the Buddha, striving to speak words
that are truthful, conducive to harmony, pleasantly uttered, and about things that, in
the final analysis, have the single taste of liberation.
Roger Jackson, Professor of Religion at Carleton College, has published widely on
Indian and Tibetan Buddhist philosophy. His most recent book (co-edited with John
Makransky) is Buddhist Theology: Critical Reflections by Contemporary Buddhist
Scholars (Curzon Press).
Just as there is a “sex industry,” there is also a “lying industry.” Many people have to lie in
order to succeed as politicians, or salespersons. A corporate director of communications
told me that if he were allowed to tell the truth about his company’s products, people
would not buy them. He says positive things about products he knows are not true, and he
refrains from speaking about the negative effects of the products. He knows he is lying,
and he feels terrible about it. So many people are caught in similar situations. In politics
also, people lie to get votes. That is why we can speak of a “lying industry.”
—Thich Nhat Hanh
For a Future to be Possible
Everyday Right Speech
M u d i t a N i s ke r
In traditional Buddhist teaching, right speech is one of the steps on the Eightfold
Noble Path. Its four guiding principles are:
1. Telling the truth
2. Not speaking harshly or cruelly
3. Not engaging in useless speech
4. Not gossiping
When I teach communication skills to individuals, couples and groups, I often
suggest these principles as a guide to practicing mindfulness in everyday speech. By
keeping the focus on the speaker, they encourage us to look within ourselves rather
than to judge others. Following these four simple rules would eliminate much of the
conflict, misunderstanding, and hurt feelings that result from careless speech.
I prefer the term skillful speech to right speech. Skillful suggests speech that is
acquired through practice. The term right speech is often misunderstood as “I’m
right and you’re wrong.” This kind of polarized thinking is exactly the opposite of the
spirit of the Buddha’s teaching. Right/wrong arguments harden people’s positions,
leading them to lose sight of what is really important to them. I have even heard
Buddhist couples argue over which of them was using “right speech,” evidence that
when people are caught up in anger even the dharma can be used as a club.
To avoid the polarity of right/wrong speech, I teach the concept of intentional speech
- that is, being mindful of one’s purpose in speaking. When people are aware of their
intention and express their thoughts and feelings truthfully and with kindness, they
are likely to achieve their aim and increase compassionate understanding. When they
are unaware of their intention, they are most likely to forget the Buddha’s four
principles of right speech and resort to lying or stretching the truth to make a point,
shouting hurtful and unnecessary words, and wasting time talking behind each
other’s backs.
The discrepancy between how one wants to live one’s life and how one actually lives
is particularly distressing to my clients on a Buddhist path who come to me for
counseling in my private practice. Like most of us, they find it is easier to behave in
accordance with higher principles when they’re alone rather than when they’re with
people they live with daily. It is the difficulties of familiar life - petty irritations and
ego clashes - that present the greatest tests of our belief and commitment to right
speech.
Recently, I worked with a young couple, both serious students of the dharma, who
were disturbed to find themselves squabbling over household rules. Neat and orderly
surroundings were important to Stacey, and she wanted the dishes washed as soon as
they finished eating. Jim (fictional names), on the other hand, often left the dishes in
the sink to clean up later. Their arguments over the dishes began to escalate, as
evidenced by the following conversation they reported to me:
S t a c e y : How many times have I asked you not to leave your dishes in the sink? You
know I can’t stand to have dirty dishes around. Why do you keep doing this?
J i m : Can’t you see that I’m trying to finish this assignment? Why does everything
have to be done according to your time schedule? Doesn’t mine count? Now stop
nagging about this.
S t a c e y : I’m not nagging. I’m telling you that I don’t want to clean up after you.
J i m : When did I ever ask you to do that? I always clean up after myself. The difference
is that you’re compulsive about it and I’m not.
S t a c e y : I can’t talk to you. You discount whatever I say.
Using the four principles of skillful speech as our guide, we can see where Stacey and
Jim lost focus of what they wanted to achieve and worked against themselves.
1. Telling the truth: Most people believe that they should speak the truth, but which
truth? One’s person’s truth is not necessarily the other person’s truth. In this case,
Stacey and Jim made the common error of confusing the facts of the situation with
their assumptions about the situation. The fact of this situation was the dirty dishes
in the sink. What those dishes meant to each one, however, was open to
interpretation. Stacey assumed that Jim’s leaving the dishes in the sink meant that
Jim expected her to clean up after him. Moreover, when he didn’t do it, she assumed
he dismissed her wishes. Jim reacted to her assumption with one of his own: that
Stacey was compulsive.
Many disagreements result from people being unaware of the other person’s
assumptions and often of their own as well. Articulating assumptions illuminates
each person’s truth, allowing them to separate fact from assumption. Once Stacey
and Jim learned to be mindful of these distinctions, they were able to think about
how to resolve their disagreement.
2. Not speaking harshly: When people are in conflict, they often express their anger
or annoyance by making sweeping accusations or trading insults, as Stacey and Jim
did. Learning to express themselves clearly and firmly, however, they were able to
resolve the situation swiftly.
S t a c e y : Would you mind rinsing the breakfast dishes in the sink and putting them in
the dishwasher?
J i m : I’ll do it in a little while.
S t a c e y : I’d appreciate your doing it now. Looking at them really bothers me.
J i m : I’m right in the middle of something. If it’s bothering you, maybe you can wash
them now, and I’ll do the dinner dishes.
In this dialogue, Stacey and Jim stated clearly and truthfully what they wanted
without insulting each other. Stacey expressed what bothered her and Jim responded
in a way that showed he respected her feelings and that he did not expect her to clean
up after him.
3. Useless speech: When we are mindful of our intentions, we are less likely to
engage in useless speech. Some individuals, for example, feel compelled to blurt out
their anger whenever they are upset. Later, after the dust settles, they may see the
situation differently and regret what they said. In my communication work, I ask
clients if anyone consistently displayed angry behavior when they were growing up.
Typically, it is a parent, and I suggest tongue-in-cheek that they may be channeling
him or her. This suggestion often helps clients understand that their behavior
demonstrates their conditioning more than their choice.
Changing behavior requires self-awareness. I encourage my clients to pause when
they recognize an angry thought and to ask themselves: Will expressing this thought
be useful? Will it help me achieve the outcome that I want?
4. Not gossiping: Gossip is often untrue, cruel, and useless, and those who follow
the Buddha’s first three principles of right speech would find little to gossip about. I
emphasize intention as the overriding principle of skillful speech and
self-questioning as the means by which we can test our intention. For example, when
we repeat unflattering information about others, is our intention to discredit them or
make them appear foolish? Do we want to make ourselves look good and them bad?
Inseparable from right speech is good listening. When we talk without hearing the
other person, we are engaged in a monologue, not a dialogue. Staying open to others’
thoughts and feelings enhances understanding and harmony. The more skillfully we
speak and listen, the more skillfully we live our lives. And the more we can bring the
teachings of the Buddha into the world through our words.
Mudita Niskeris a licensed Marriage, Family and Child Counselor in private practice
in Oakland, California. She also conducts communication skills trainings locally and
nationally.
Right Speech
Right Speech, or sammavacha, is the third step of the Eightfold Path, which is the fourth
and last Noble Truth preached by Shakyamuni Buddha. The following is a collection of
classic and contemporary views of Right Speech.
Sex, Lies, and Videotape
Donald S, Lopez, Jr.
The recent travails of our president have provided numerous occasions for Buddhist
reflection. His ruminations on “what the meaning of ‘is’ is” during his grand jury
testimony, for example, were worthy of the great Middle Way philosopher Nagarjuna.
But the overriding impression from the entire affair has been to confirm the Buddha’s
insight that desire, hatred, and ignorance are indeed poisons. These three poisons are
said to motivate ten types of nonvirtuous deeds, which in turn cause all the sufferings
of the universe. They are killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying, divisive speech,
harsh speech, senseless speech, covetousness, harmful intent, and wrong view. All ten
(if we include the alleged murder of Vincent Foster) have afflicted the nation of the
course of the independent counsel’s investigation.
The President, his critics charge, has been most
guilty of lying and sexual misconduct. According
to Buddhist ethical treatises, lying is a verbal
misdeed in which the speaker says something
different from what he or she knows to be the
case, and the listener understands what the
speaker says. In a qualification that seems
particularly appropriate to the recent scandal, if
the listener does not understand what the speaker
has intended, it is not a lie, but merely senseless
speech. Three levels of lies are enumerated. The
gravest is to falsely claim spiritual achievements.
The second is falsehood that brings great benefit
to oneself and others. The third is a slight lie that brings neither help nor harm. The
House Judiciary Committee has to determine which of these are high crimes and
misdemeanors. In the Mahayana, the question of lying is revisited in the context of the
Buddha’s skillful means. Did the Buddha lie when he said that there are three vehicles,
when he knew, in fact, that there is only one, the Great Vehicle that will take all beings
to Buddhahood?
Most of the discourse surrounding the scandal, however, has dwelled on lesser
questions, notably, the definition of sex. And on this point, Buddhist texts are hardly
silent. The great fourth-century compendium of Buddhist doctrine, Vasubandhu’s
Treasury of Knowledge (Abhidharmakosha), explains that sexual misconduct is censured
in the world because “ it is the corruption of another man’s wife and because it leads to
retribution in a painful rebirth.” His definition of sex is far more laconic than that of
Paula Jones’s lawyers; Vasubandhu says that “the deed of improper desire is to go
where one should not go.” He goes on to describe four kinds of sexual misconduct. The
first is sexual intercourse with an improper partner, such as another man’s wife, one’s
mother, one’s daughter, a nun, or a female relative up to seven times removed. In
keeping with the misogyny so prevalent in Buddhism, it is noteworthy that sexual
misconduct is defined from the male perspective, prohibiting intercourse with women
who are somehow off limits, protected by a husband, a family, the sangha, or the incest
taboo. The texts make no mention of White House interns.
The other types of sexual misconduct involve a man’s intercourse with is own wife, but
in ways that are somehow improper. Thus, to use “a path other than the vagina” is to
commit sexual misconduct. The President may have a problem here. The sex act also
becomes a misdeed if it is performed in an unsuitable location, such as a public place,
near a stupa, in a forest retreat, or in the presence of images of the Three Jewels. No
mention is made of the Oval Office. Finally, there are unsuitable times for sex, such as
when one’s wife is pregnant, nursing, ill, menstruating, or during the day.
But what if the woman is unmarried? It all depends on whether the woman is some
other man’s property. Vasubandhu explains that “intercourse with a young girl is illicit
with regard to the man to whom she is engaged, and, if she is not engaged, with regard
to her guardian; if she has no guardian, then with regard to the king.” He does not
mention whether it is illicit when the man engaging in intercourse with a young girl is
the king.
The President denied a sexual relationship on two grounds, first, because there was no
genital intercourse, and second, because he maintained that there was no orgasm. He
might take initial comfort from the fact that some texts define the act as having
occurred only upon “the contact of the two organs.” But the commentaries make clear
that the term organ in this context includes, by extension, the other two female orifices.
Nor is the President saved by the fact that, in most cases, he did not ejaculate, for
sexual misconduct is said to occur when the penis is inserted “even as much as a
sesame seed” into the female. Besides, as the stain on the dress proved, the President
did ejaculate. One of the few defenses that the President did not make in his deposition
was to claim to be a bodhisattva, who vows to be willing to engage in lying and sexual
misconduct whenever necessary to benefit sentient beings. But he seems to lack such
motivation. If only the President had been a god in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three
rather than a more mundane deity, he might have gotten away with it, for there, when
gods make love, the males emit not semen, but wind.
Donald S. Lopez, Jr., is a contributing editor to Tricycle and Professor of Buddhist and
Tibetan studies at the University of Michigan. His most recent book is Prisoners of
Shangri-La: Tibetan Buddhism and the West (University of Chicago Press).
More people get hurt by gossip than by guns.
—Robert Aitken, The Practice of Perfection
From the habit of speaking truthfully confidence is acquired, since there is no need then to
dissemble or conceal the truth. Moreover, the speaker of truth inspires confidence in others
who come to know that they may rely implicitly on his words.
—Hammalawa Saddatissa, Buddhist Ethics
Out of not lying we can develop our voice to speak for compassion, understanding, and
justice.
—Jack Kornfield, A Path with Heart
Think of this simple instruction: What would it take to be able to communicate with my
enemy…to have my enemy hear what I’m trying to say, and what would it take to be able for
me to hear what he or she is trying to say to me?
—Pema Chodron, Start Where You Are
Certain silences don’t help, they hurt. It’s important to tell your story. We call it talking
meditation.
—Bernie Glassman Roshi, Bearing Witness
Right Speech in Marriage
S u s a n P i ve r B r o w n e
I love the concept of idiot compassion. Just as being truly compassionate doesn’t
mean always being sweet and nice (sometimes it means being cold, harsh), being truly
honest doesn’t mean speaking your thoughts and feelings as they arise. Other
awarenesses and intention must be at work—and a recognition that the truth is not
solid. This is especially so in a marriage, where speech can so easily be used against
one’s partner—or against the world, from the security and privacy of the bedroom.
Avoid Lying
What is abstaining from lying in marriage? If idiot compassion is true compassion’s
lobotomized cousin, so idiot honesty is cousin to true honesty. Abstaining from lying
doesn’t mean speaking your thoughts and impulses as they arise; it means being aware
of the presence of certain feelings in yourself, your beloved, and the space you occupy.
In the Taoist sense, being in this flow can cue you about when and how to speak
skillfully, with as few or as many qualities as possible. In this sense, telling the truth
requires such precise awareness.
When you know the truth, it may not be so hard: It’s then a matter of fortitude, and of
choice. It’s not so easy when the truth is not perceptible. The truth shifts—frailty,
courage, loveliness, and stupidity are in every moment. As such, there may be only
pretending to know something about the truth—even trusting that there is no truth.
Therefore the injunction—not to tell the truth—but to avoid lying.
At the same time, to be in an impassioned relationship, the truth must speak. It’s my
experience that there is tremendous synchronicity between truth and passion. Desire
flourishes on the edge. Its opposite is rest. Truth—trying for truth of self, of other, of
the moment—means working with the edge. For those who are inspired by passion, it
means staying alive on the deepest levels.
Avoid Abusive Words
I’ve known people who hurl epithets and use insults and aggression to make a point, to
clear space, to be heard. My family didn’t do that. It’s easy for me not to do those things
with my husband, no matter how provoked. What my family did do—and what it’s hard
for me not to do—was create abusive silence. There is the silence of refraining from
saying something hurtful out of a sense of gentleness. And there is the silence of fuck
you. Is this abusive speech? I think so.
Avoid Idle Chatter, Slander
I immediately think of jealous territoriality, of clearing space around oneself as a way of
preventing the closeness of others who may threaten the couple—very female. The
lover has the ear of the beloved in a very special way. No matter what front is presented
to the world, married couples, it seems, have intimate, before-bed moments of
conversation about work, the car, and other people, whatever. In these moments it is so
easy to influence the beloved’s responses with tiny remarks: “He is just after money,” “I
think she may not like her job.” This quiet creation of one viewpoint of people and
events must be approached with great care and without the intention of dividing the
beloved from his own thoughts, his own approach, out of fear.
On the other hand, one of the great joys of marriage is the dissection of thoughts and
responses deemed too small or intimate for others to hear or for which only the beloved
understands the context: “Her haircut made me think of that lampshade at your
mother’s house.” Sharing that intimacy, a history spiced by a tiny (or enormous) dram
of laughing together at someone else, provides a strange, uneasy comfort. But no one is
to be used as a tool for our own comfort, without regard for their humanity.
Avoid Gossip
It’s painful to learn that holding a mutual thought about someone else, no matter how
small, can be a tremendous unkindness.
Once, I was the victim of gossip so horrible and strong that I almost believed it myself.
It had such life that I spent a lot of time examining my circumstances to see if it might
not be true. The experience really sucked. Eventually, I realized that its genesis was
attributed to just such tiny remarks blended and compounded. Some extant energy met
the force of unkindness and combined to create a very painful situation. I vowed never
to gossip again. And, with some notable failures, I’ve pretty much stuck to this. When
my beloved gossips to me, I hear and try not to respond or add to it. I try and make
some genuine remark that could recontextualize the person’s actions or vibration in a
more benign light. When I am compelled to gossip, I try to prevent myself. It is hardest
of all with my husband. I want the moronic pleasure of maliciousness and high-toned
judgment of others, with the one who holds me in the highest regard. The S&M of ego.
In the end, for me, it boils down to something a wonderful friend once told me: If the
intention is good, then it doesn’t matter if the result manifests in the heaven or hell
realm.
Susan Piver Browne is writing The Hard Questions: A Lover’s Guide to Passion and
Commitment, to be published by Tarcher/Putnam this year.
Words from the Heart
S t e ve n S m i t h a n d M i r a b a i B u s h
The cutting edge of American dharma is challenged with the task of transmitting a
2,500-year-old Buddhist lineage into modern culture. As the Center for Contemplative
Mind in Society, we have sponsored insight meditation (vipassana) retreats for various
sectors of American society including business, academia, philanthropy, and media. We
look for direct, honest language that will speak to a public wary of things esoteric,
Eastern, and religious.
When we talk about contemplation in business, for instance, we talk about seeing
interrelationships rather than linear chains. We explain that deep practice frees you
from the tyranny of linear cause and effect and that understanding the mystery of how
things actually happen—how any act can change the direction or quality or outcome in
a profound way—increases one’s leverage.
Two and a half years ago, the CEO and fifteen top executives of a major global
corporation sat a silent mindfulness retreat. Some were resistant to the intimidation of
silence, and others kept striving for some tangible result. We used sitting, walking, and
lovingkindness meditations to introduce the precepts as ways to create a safe space of
“non-harming” and life stories and Jataka tales to illustrate the principles. In the end,
participants had taken up the challenge and turned their potent left-brain focus inward,
into the moment. Most of the executives continue to practice today, including the CEO.
Now, many retreats and dharma tales later, the corporation encourages new
participants to attend retreats with literatures that speaks of “Mindfulness as a tool
that will allow you to purposefully respond rather than just react to change. When
practices regularly, Mindfulness provides a variety of personal and organizational
benefits, which include increased adaptability, nonjudgmental listening, enhanced
clarity and creativity, and greater integration of your personal and professional life.”
In retreats it is essential to respect and listen to where people are, to speak from the
heart, and to understand that even terms like awareness and lovingkindness need to be
defined and explained. Sometimes we use clusters of poetic terms to convey deeper
meaning. For national environmental leaders, we talked about introducing them to a
spiritual habitat, a familiar notion to them.
With members of the media, we suggested that meditation practice is a kind of inner
journalism: seeing and reporting things as they are. We talked about right speech—that
what you report should not only be true but timely and useful. After the retreat, one
journalist told us, “Compassion in journalism—maybe that is the same thing as fairness
and accuracy.”
In working with mainstream practitioners, articulating the practice of nonharming or
compassion is at once sobering and soothing. Simple language connects people to the
fragility and strength of the human heart, and because skillful speech rests in the
intention of the speaker, it is not so much the words as the tone that conveys the power
of nonharming teachings. In fact, teaching dharma to mainstream groups differs little
in spirit from teaching traditional vipassana retreats. How the timeless teachings are
elucidated makes the difference between awakening dharma within someone or
creating confusion.
Steven Smith is a Guiding Teacher at the Insight Meditation Society in Barre,
Massachusetts, the Kyaswa Valley Retreat Center in Burma, and the Blue Mountain
Meditation Center in Australia. He is a founder of Vipassana Hawai’I and the
MettaDana Project in Burma and a senior advisor to the Center for Contemplative Mind
in Society (CMIS).
Mirabai Bush is Director of CMIS. For ten years, she directed the Seva Foundation
Guatemala Project and is co-author with Ram Das of Compassion in Action: Setting Out
on the Path of Service.
Religious conversation or truthfulness alone is not right speech. Abstinence from
unwholesome speech is the essence of right speech. It should be noted that when occasion
arises for one to speak falsely, to slander, to use abusive language, or chatter uselessly, if
one restrains oneself from doing so, one is establishing the practice of right speech. Indeed,
one who refrains from false speech will engage only in speech which is truthful, gentle, and
beneficial and will promote harmony. The essential point is that one who abstains from
wrong speech establishes the moral foundation of the path.
—Dr. Rewata Dhamma,
The First Discourse of the Buddha
“Don’t talk about injured limbs.” In other words, don’t talk about other people’s defects.
—Pema Chodron, Start Where You Are
The four nonvirtues of speech include (1) lying, the worst lie being that one has spiritual
realization; (2) slander, which involves using speech to separate close friends, the worst case
being that of slandering members of one’s spiritual group; (3) harsh speech that hurts
others; and (4) gossip or useless speech, which wastes one’s own and others’ time.
—Chagdud Tulku, Gates to Buddhist Practice
Image 1: "Silence" from Jacqueline Pitman's Dharma Cards Pack. © Jacqueline Pitman.
Image 2: "Right Speech": A card from Jacqueline Pitman's Dharma Pack. The lips symbolize
right speech; a conch represents the sounding of the dharma; the elephant, the unlimited
powers of the Buddha. © Jacqueline Pitman.
Image 3: Arhat teaching a pupil; detail from painted Manjushri statue, Ladakh. Photo by
Jaroslav Poncar from Alchi: Ladakh's Hidden Buddhist Sanctuary, used with permission
from Serinda Publications, © 1996 Roger Goepper and Jaroslav Poncar.
Image 4: Courtesy Eric Dinyer/Graphicstock.
Image 5: "Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil, See No Evil"; Toshogu Shrine, Japan. Courtesy Ikuo
Taguchi.
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